


I Had the Chance, You Had the Inclination

by eratothemuse



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: AU, College AU, F/M, NSFW, Negan being a very bad professor, Negan's language, Orgasm Denial, Professor AU, Smut, age gap, minor spanking, not safe for work, teacher/student relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 10:59:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16973343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eratothemuse/pseuds/eratothemuse
Summary: Being Professor Negan’s research assistant/TA is not the easiest job in the world, not because he’s a difficult man to be around, but rather because he’s a difficult man for you to be around. One day while working in his lab, you suddenly find it gets a lot harder upon his realization that you may have chosen to apply for this position for more than just checking a box on your undergraduate résumé.





	I Had the Chance, You Had the Inclination

**Author's Note:**

> Because I’ve slowly devolved into Negan trash ever since I started watching The Walking Dead. Really, I debated whether to write a John Winchester one instead with this concept, but Negan is just too fun to write and I wanted to try my hand at writing dirty talk.  
> \- Meg <3 xx

Junior year of undergrad was closing in and you still hadn’t gotten a research project under your belt. It seemed like everyone else had already become more competitive than you, with their own projects and résumé-enhancing extracurriculars. So, naturally, you had decided to pick one of your previous professors to ask if they had a spot.

There was always Dr. Greene with his agricultural research that you’d had your fair share of an earful about through the class of his you’d taken as an elective. He apparently really needed some more help on it, so you knew for a fact there was a spot open with him. Diversity always looked good, so it could still work for you if it came down to having to take him up on it, but really there was only one professor who you would like to spend every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday with.

There was just something about Professor Negan. Yes, he was ridiculously attractive, but also his research fit more of what you hoped to specialize in. Less of a stretch than agriculture, for sure.

Maybe you could kill two birds in one stone, you realized, when you saw the spot for a TA was open for him, too. Professors loved familiarity, and since you were in the process of completing your last semester of the two-semester sequence of his required classes, you figured you had a competitive shot for it. Making good grades in both so far, you held yourself confidently high while you spoke with him about it, and eventually applied for the position of both TA and research assistant with the promise of getting your own project should he accept you.

Luckily enough, he did, and as the semester progressed, so did your experience in his lab. He was fun both in lecture and lab, with his laid-back attitude despite his no-filter mouth. Refreshing compared to many of your other professors, it was easy enough to sometimes forget he was one. He even insisted you call him by his name without the title, giving a more equal setting when you worked with him outside of class.

But as the strand of a barrier between your individual statuses thinned, you found that spending time with him grew more and more difficult. You were noticing things a student shouldn’t notice, from how good he looked with his glasses on to wishing you were the pen he absentmindedly nibbled on when going over the papers you graded for him. A hint of you wondered if maybe he looked at you the same way when you weren’t looking. You’d felt his eyes on you several times throughout the months, but chalked it up to his observing your lab technique above anything else.

Once again, you were lost in your thoughts as you watched Negan over the rim of your protective glasses, looking away from the microscope and your laboratory notebook to admire the way his hair looked particularly messier than usual this evening. Just as you shift your weight in your seat in an attempt to stop the heat from spreading too low in your body, he glances up.

_Shit._ He’d caught you staring.

And he wasn’t the kind to let it off easy as you glanced back down to the microscope in a failed attempt to pretend as if you weren’t just checking him out, “Something interesting over here, (Y/N)?”

You try your best to suppress an embarrassed blush when you look back towards him, licking your lips as you try to come up with an answer, “I was just thinking. Zoned-out. Didn’t mean to stare. Sorry.” The explanation comes out choppy and unbelievable. Negan smirks, leaning over the counter and towards you as you remove your protective glasses.

“When are you going to admit it, hmm?” he asks, making you swallow nervously as your brow furrows in confusion. Were his eyes trailing down your neck, or was that just your imagination?

“Admit what, Professor?”

Negan gives a dissatisfied look at the title, before continuing with the same smirk he’d had before, “Admit that you applied for my TA position for more than just the experience?”

“Yeah,” you begin, “I needed the money, too.”

He has a good chuckle at that, and you know he doesn’t believe you any more than you do, “Nah, see, do you wanna’ know what I think?” He’s pushed away from the counter, standing from the stool as he walks around the counter casually and yet with an air that is almost dangerous. He leans over your left shoulder to take a look at the sample in your agar plate through the microscope. It was easy enough considering his height, even with the tall stool underneath you. The innocent gesture doesn’t seem so innocent when you take the proximity between you into account, trying to ignore the effect the smell of him has on your breathing.

You really shouldn’t be getting so worked up by the scent of his cologne, mixed with leather and something else that must just be him. Failing, you shift in your seat once more in hopes to relieve your arousal against your jeans.

“What do you think?” you ask quietly, finding your lips nearer to his ear than was appropriate as a shot of electricity sparks down your spine, sending heat to pool in your abdomen.

He tilts his head to the side to send you a mischievous look without moving his body any distance from you at all, his smirk just as wide as ever when he remarks, “I think you wanna’ fuck me.”

So much for holding back your blush. It was true enough. You had wanted to get a piece of him since you’d met him, practically, but your respect for the system had kept you from acting on your attraction to him even a little.

“I think,” he continues, a smile biting at his teeth as he lets his eyes wander more freely than you’d ever noticed before, “you’ve been wanting to fuck me since you fuckin’ walked into my office on the first day, askin’ about that little research project you wanted.”

You let out a gasp in shock and embarrassment before you immediately go to protest, “I-I didn’t— I don’t—”

“Yes, you do,” amused, Negan just moves a little closer, taking notice that you don’t dare move back. “Darlin’, I don’t fucking appreciate you lyin’ to me.”

You’re stunned, face hotter than you’d thought possible, all the while trying to figure something to say and only coming up with, “O-Okay.”

He shifts his weight, cornering you on the stool you were perched on when his right hand comes to rest on your thigh, “Am I wrong?” The contact only enhances your excitement when he gives you a little encouraging squeeze, the confidence on his face only growing.

It takes another minute for you to get the courage to answer him, still stunned at his forwardness despite the initial suspicion he liked you more than in a teacher-student relationship sort of way, “No.”

Apparently, your answer was a bit too quiet for his liking, because his left hand comes to cup his ear teasingly, “What? I can’t quite hear you if you’re whispering like that. Don’t be shy. Just you and me in here.”

“No,” you say a little louder. Loud enough to appease him, “You’re not wrong.” He watches your eyes glance from his own to his lips then back to his eyes again, as if he was a predator and you were watching his every move, unsure of what he’d do next.

He found it entertaining, “Gotta’ admit, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about bending you over a couple times myself.” He steps closer, so close that you have to move your knees out of the way in order to accommodate him, as he ducks his head to purr against your lips, “Over my desk, over my knee… Hell, over this table. Whatever is fucking available, sweetheart.”

In a moment of profound boldness, you find yourself shoot back at him, “To what? Spank me?”

“I’ve thought about it when you’d come by my office wearing those unbelievably fucking tight pants of yours, knowing just what you do to me. Shit,” he admits with a chuckle, “I’d like to personally thank whoever invented yoga pants. Drives me absolutely fucking wild on you. Probably better off, though.”

“Definitely,” you agree just before he closes the tense gap between you, his left hand immediately coming to your neck to pull you closer while his right smooths from your thigh to your hip, gripping you there. You’re thankful that the door’s small window was obscured by bulletins and it required a key-code to enter, because you didn’t think you could stand for him to bother locking it.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you give into his kiss, but not easily. Your lips move against his, matching the roughness that he was using with you. His beard scratched in just the right way as his tongue pressed against your own, drawing a little moan from you when you felt his fingers dip up under your shirt, feeling the bare skin at your back. You let your legs wrap around the backs of his knees in an attempt to grind against him, desperate to have some friction against your jeans.

He pulls back, the sound of your kiss loud in the silence of the otherwise empty room, and you go to kiss the portion of his neck that was shaven, “Stand up. If I’m gonna’ fuck you, you definitely have to lose the jeans.”

Negan doesn’t need to ask twice as you move far enough back to hop off the stool and hook your thumbs into your jeans upon unbuttoning them. Deciding to give a little show, you turn your back to him as you take your panties down with the jeans, arching to where he got a good eyeful of what you were offering before they were even a good portion down your thighs.

You relish in the little growl that comes from him, and the hand he grabs at your hip in an effort to touch you before you finally kick off the obstructing clothing, “Fuck, you’re just being naughty, now. Teasing me like that.” You feel his semi-hard on pressing through the fabric of his own pants against your ass when he grinds into you, his other hand reaching to your front to smooth between your folds equally as teasingly, “How long have you been wet for me?”

Your head lulls against his chest as you tilt it towards his face a bit, feeling him circle his index and middle fingers over your clit to send a jolt of pleasure through your body that has you pushing back against him for more, “God, Negan—” He wrenches a moan from your throat with another swirl of his fingers, applying just the right amount of pressure to already get your knees weak as you spread your legs a bit more.

Two can play at that game, you decide, reaching between you to stroke your hand on the fabric over the bulge that was pressing against your ass. His hips rock into your grip, and his fingers move from your clit to dip into you pleasurably. Tilting your neck, you let out a whine when the hand he had on your hip reaches up to tug your shirt’s collar to one side roughly, giving him access to the bare skin of your shoulder, sans for the part obscured by the strap of your bra. His beard tickles as he kisses and nips his way along your skin, fingers alternating between pressing into you and playing with your clit until you can barely stay upright anymore, let alone stroke him in a consistent rhythm.

He’s sucked a hickey onto the junction of your neck and shoulder by the time his fingers slip out of you without going back to your clit, an annoyed whine coming from you when he moves out of your contact just as you were on the precipice of release, “What the hell, Negan? I was close!”

“You don’t cum until I say so,” he smirks, hands quickly coming back to your lower hips when you look over your shoulder accusingly at him, “Calm down and bend the fuck over, sugar.” It’s then that you realize he’s unbuttoned, unzipped, and pulled out of the gap in his pants that results. It seemed that he was going to keep his pants on.

He’s larger than you’d expected, what with your only knowledge of his size coming from the feel of him through his pants, but you’re far too horny right now to have to worry about being ready or not. You were more than ready. You wiggle your ass a bit as you bend towards the stool you’d previously sat on, letting it situate under your breasts as you use it as stability to push back against him when he teasingly slides his cock against your wet folds.

“Fuckin’ eager, huh?” Negan hums, licking his lips as you let out a small gasp when his tip brushes against your clit. “I’m gonna’ ruin you.”

“Prove it,” you shoot back, moving your hips against his for your own pleasure when you get a chuckle from him and a squeeze at your hips before he reaches down to grip himself.

“Oh, darlin’, have I ever lied to you?” he asks in amusement before he guides himself between your folds, pressing gently until he’s fully sheathed inside you. You shiver at the feeling of being so completely filled, yet still itching for more.

It’s a gasped moan that you let out as he pulls his hips back, only to ram into you rougher than you’d expected, yet unknowingly how you wanted, “Negan!”

“Holy shit, you’re tight, you know that?” he growls, grabbing at your waist to tug you against him for another thrust and another until he builds a rhythm that you learn to match. He bends over you to kiss at your shoulder blade, hips grinding against your ass after each thrust that has you gripping the stool tighter, “Best pussy I’ve ever had.”

“Shit,” you curse, feeling yourself building again towards the peak of orgasm, yet trying to hold back for him since he’d said you weren’t allowed to cum until he said so. “Oh, Professor…”

He pulls you even rougher at that, huffing, “That is not my name. Try that shit again.”

You let out a giggle, grinding back against him and reveling in just how much he’s hitting you in the right way, “Negan, come on…”

“Better,” he approves, snapping his hips against you again as he urges. “What’s that you want?”

“Let me— ah!" you beg as he picks up the pace almost perfectly, making you erupt into a moan when he lands a hard slap on your ass.

“Maybe I’ll feel more giving if you ask nicely,” Negan chuckles, making you huff angrily.

“Make me cum, Negan!”

Another slap in time with his thrust, “It’s almost like you don’t want to fuckin’ cum.”

“Ugh—” you grunt, biting your bottom lip to hold back a moan as you try to collect yourself enough to ask him in more than a whine, “Please, Negan, make me cum!”

“That’s it. Wasn’t too hard,” he hums with his own moan as he smoothes the welt left by his hand on your cheek with the same hand that had slapped it a moment before, causing a stinging sensation to come with the pleasure that has you getting even wetter. He reaches around your hip, letting his fingers find your clit again just as you begin to peak.

“A-Are you close?” you choke out, leaning against his fingers and his thrusts as you notice his breath quickening with his groans of satisfaction when you begin to clench your walls against him whenever he would pull back.

“Mhm, (Y/N), you’re too good at this shit,” Negan moans, thrusts getting erratic the longer he goes, before finally he growls. “You can cum for me. Fuck, go on and cum for me, darlin.’”

His fingers on your clit circle quickly with his thrusts as you press against him, letting him urge you towards the brink of release before finally,  _finally_  you lose yourself in the feeling of it, moans stringing the sound of his name and legs shaking as you feel yourself struggle to breathe. Having to grab onto something, you grip the stool until your knuckles go white, feeling him continue his erratic thrusting as you spasm around him involuntarily.

“Fuck,” he moans, the sound of your name on his tongue as he pulls out just to stroke himself to completion as you catch your breath. “You were awesome, (Y/N).” Negan gives you a satisfied smile as his eyes lustfully drink you in when you right yourself, watching you run a hand through your hair as you still gasp for breath, right along with him, “Glad I took the chance.”


End file.
